


bloodflood

by mortarsmayfall



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood Drinking, M/M, Marking, Vampire Sex, take my not-vampire au where everything's the same but the grandmaster drinks blood sometimes, we're all having fun here right?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 19:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortarsmayfall/pseuds/mortarsmayfall
Summary: "Here is fine," Loki repeated, tighter, one of the muscles in his face twitching minutely. It was barely a tell, but Loki knew the Grandmaster saw.





	bloodflood

**Author's Note:**

> listen. i don't know. i'm writing something longer for loki and the gm and i got frustrated with that and churned....this out in like six hours on my phone notes. it's completely unbeta'd. enjoy my unrestricted id.

"Right here."

Arm extended, sleeve rolled up so the blood vessels in his inner forearm stand stark against the white flesh, Loki felt strangely vulnerable, as if flayed bare. The Grandmaster's fingers were around his wrist, lacquered nails skittering across the thin skin of his pulse point. 

"You're sure? Most prefer me to start with -- uh -- their neck. More sensitive that way."

 _That's exactly why not,_ Loki thought. 

"Here is fine," Loki repeated, tighter, one of the muscles in his face twitching minutely. It was barely a tell, but Loki knew the Grandmaster saw. 

"Suit yourself," the Grandmaster shrugged, bringing Loki's arm closer. He traced the path of ropy veins from the crook of Loki's inner elbow to his wrist with a tongue. "Hmmm. The skin here is thinner, barely any fat. Good for eating. And the _smell--"_

"Grandmaster," Loki groused, flexing his fingers. "If you would please."

"Jeez, didn't think I was holding you up or anything," the Grandmaster laughed, and sunk his teeth into Loki's arm. 

Whatever the Grandmaster was, vampire didn't _quite_ cover it -- though there were certainly the similarities, the blood feeding. But what came with a bite was ecstasy, like a shot of aphrodesiac straight to the bloodstream. Loki had seen it before with other courtesans, the quivering bodies, the moaning, and at first it scared him, the loss of control. But then he saw that the Grandmaster only fed off his _favorites_ , and, well. 

Loki was jealous. 

He wasn't sure if it was the act of breaking skin, or something in the Grandmaster's saliva that got people this way but it certainly was working on him: a warm, pleasant, lazy sensation that started in his arm and spread from there, as if in radiating circles. As the Grandmaster fed it intensified and soon what was a warm tingle now felt like Loki's body was ablaze, his face and neck beading with sweat. 

The Grandmaster swept his tongue over the bite.

"Oh," Loki sighed. He didn't remember the last time he felt this hot. 

Risking a look down he saw the bite, the indents made by the Grandmaster's teeth beading with flecks of blood. He felt an insane urge to drink it himself, though it'd do him no good. 

"Come here," the Grandmaster said, and pulled Loki into his lap, knees straddling his hips; the contact felt good to Loki's suddenly touch-starved skin, and he found himself leaning into the Grandmaster's touch, letting the Grandmaster grab his wrist and press an open-mouthed kiss to the bite. "It's ownership," the Grandmaster explained, cheerily. "Anyone sees my favorite with a bite on their neck, it sends a message. 'No touching,' y'know?"

Loki nodded, dazed. He was far too hard already. 

Pulling him down by the hair, the Grandmaster kissed him, this time on the mouth, tongues sliding messily against each other. He tasted his own blood on the Grandmaster's teeth, his lips. 

"Your blood, though," the Grandmaster mused, "It's so sweet. Just like a magic-user's. It's lovely."

His hand was on the front of Loki's pants. Loki was not shameful enough to prevent himself from grinding against it, desperate for the friction. 

"How do you feel?"

_"Hot."_

"Like, Farrah Fawcett hot, like _sexy,_ or--"

"Like the temperature," Loki gritted out, gasping when the Grandmaster acquiesced to his silent begging and squeezed him through his pants. "Like I want you to bite me again."

The Grandmaster grinned at him, rows of sharp white teeth. "Lose the pants and I'll think about it."

He didn't even have to move his hand. In one moment he had pants and the next....he didn't. Same with his shirt. The Grandmaster purred, wrapped his hand around Loki's cock. 

"Actually, I'm gonna be selfish," the Grandmaster said, tone so conversational one could almost forget he was giving Loki a handjob. "Would you let me fuck you?"

"I, ahh --" Loki groaned, trying not to let his eyes roll back when the Grandmaster twisted his wrist. His forearm was still bleeding; the Grandmaster went back to feeding on it, laving his tongue across the skin to clean it of excess blood. "Yes, yes, fine, of course."

"Great!" the Grandmaster stopped his stroking, which frustrated Loki now that practically every inch of his skin was screaming for touch. He knew he was shuddering. Instead the Grandmaster got one finger (mysteriously already prepped) in Loki's ass, making him yelp. 

"Careful, sweetheart," the Grandmaster said, without an ounce of apology in his voice. He leaned forward and gave Loki's chest a little nip -- not enough to break skin. Loki bit his lip as the Grandmaster added another finger and flexed them, stretching him till it burned but he still wanted _more,_ more touch, the Grandmaster's teeth on his neck --

"Can you take four?" The Grandmaster asked, and Loki's heart jumped. 

"I'll take anything from you," Loki babbled, and couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed when the Grandmaster laughed, startled. 

He didn't need a second warning; the third was quick and the flaring motion he did made Loki double over, his face in the crook of the Grandmaster's neck. The fourth was a sweet drag, right across Loki's rim and just -- on the verge of too much, but in his daze he could hardly focus on anything other than the pleasure. 

"Oh, yeah," the Grandmaster murmured, wiggling his fingers in a way that made Loki want to kick him. "That's fantastic."

 _Fantastic._ The Grandmaster's other hand stroked Loki's flank in an almost insulting manner, like trying to calm a nervous horse, but his touch was a balm on Loki's feverish skin. He was thrusting his fingers in earnest now, lancing hard and deep enough Loki knocked his forehead against the Grandmaster's shoulder, biting his lip to salvage what dignity he remained with. 

This went on for what felt like forever -- nothing but the silence of the Grandmaster's bedroom, the wet, filthy sounds of the Grandmaster working him open, the low hum in Loki's ear rattling all the way down his spine, the quiet "hah, hah, hah" of Loki's breath. One particularly sweet thrust made Loki cry out; unshaken, the Grandmaster only murmured "don't come yet," and Loki didn't, miraculously. Like whatever the Grandmaster's bite did to him wouldn't let him. 

"Well, I think that's enough," the Grandmaster commented, dragging his fingers back slow, so slow the wet _pop_ at the end sounded almost excruciatingly loud. "It's main event time."

Even like this, with his rumpled silvery hair, mouth stained red, and his makeup smeared across his face, the Grandmaster looked beautiful. There was nothing to betray his mood other than the blown-wide pupils and the erection pressing just barely at Loki's own. He realized, belatedly, that he was much more naked than the Grandmaster. "Sit up, like that. Beautiful," the Grandmaster ordered, and Loki realized he'd gotten those stupid shimmering pants down already and was positioning himself, fingers bruising Loki's hip. 

He didn't need to look. In fact, he didn't even need to do the work; the Grandmaster hooked his fingers around Loki's bony hips and pulled _down_ in one rough motion, dragging a gasp of surprise out of Loki, like someone punched him in the gut. Somewhere above him, the Grandmaster made a satisfied noise, and tangled one hand in Loki's hair. 

It was always -- too much, the Grandmaster's body. Thrumming with magic, he always ran a few degrees hotter than Loki, and combined with the feverish mania of the bite, it made Loki's hair stick to his forehead with sweat. The Grandmaster was all around him, inside of him; the pale fire of his body felt like it would burn Loki alive. 

"Come on, Lo," the Grandmaster said, petting Loki's hair. His fingernails scratched his scalp and Loki found himself leaning into it. "I can't be doing all the work here."

Loki understood, drawing back from his sweaty embrace with the Grandmaster. It was hell on his knees but he reared himself up, tall enough that the Grandmaster almost slid out of him, and slammed back down, eliciting a groan from both of them. He got both hands on the Grandmaster's chest for leverage and tried it again. The Grandmaster's grip on his hips was almost painful now, blue nails biting little red crescents into the pale flesh. 

_"Lovely,"_ the Grandmaster praised, his voice coming out as a half-growl. "Lovely, lovely. Give me a kiss."

Loki did as he was told and caught the Grandmaster's chin on the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, pulling him into a harsh kiss. At the same time the Grandmaster's hips spiked up, meeting Loki as he ground down, driving him deeper. The Grandmaster dragged his teeth across Loki's lower lip and bit _hard_ , hard enough to draw blood again, hard enough to make Loki's eyes cloud over and his hips stutter as the Grandmaster sucked on his swollen lip. 

They kept going like this, Loki riding the Grandmaster in a daze, lip-locked and panting. Blood made the Grandmaster strange too -- more aggressive, raking his nails across Loki's hips, his thighs, his back. He gave as good as he got, meeting each roll of Loki's hips with harsh, punishing thrusts, stretching him, filling him. 

"What lovely things," the Grandmaster said after breaking the kiss, breathless, "what gorgeous, lovely little things land in my junkyards."

Loki, overwhelmed, didn't know what to say. He somehow didn't catch the prickling sensation at the corners of his eyes. _Oh._

He could feel the Grandmaster was close, though, if the stuttering of his hips meant anything. Loki moved faster, his movements an erratic back-and-forth switch of the hips, trying to meet the Grandmaster's rhythm, trying to get him to hit his sweet spot again, again, _again._

"Loki," the Grandmaster said, and the tone of warning in his voice was enough to convey his meaning. 

"Use me," Loki panted, sliding shaky hands under the Grandmaster's robes, feeling hot skin, a heaving chest. "Just -- use me."

He didn't need further permission. The Grandmaster lunged forward and sank his teeth into the side of Loki's neck. The burst of blood from the Grandmaster breaking skin was like a pure shot of ecstasy, a needle of something incredibly strong straight to Loki's system, and he cried out as the Grandmaster drank deep. The Grandmaster's hands locked down like a vicegrip on Loki's hips and then he came, and came, and _came_ , filling Loki till he was spilling out. 

Loki didn't even think to touch himself; the bite on his neck was deep, and it set every synapse in his brain ablaze. The Grandmaster's cock was beginning to soften within him but he felt another intrusion: a single digit, thrusting hard into him and abusing his prostate till Loki had no choice but to come hard across his own chest, whimpering the Grandmaster's name. 

The Grandmaster slid out of him, and with him came the wetness, dripping lazily onto the bedsheets. Loki felt embarrassingly used, filthy-wet and spent, and collapsed into the Grandmaster's arms, let the elder soothe the wound with a gentle tongue. He felt a finger at his hole and just -- let it happen, sighed at the easy intrusion. 

"Grandmaster," he murmured, not trying to get the other's attention, just -- happy. And sated. He let the Grandmaster pull him back into a lying position, and decided cleaning himself up could wait for later. He wondered how he looked, bitten to hell and covered in smeared blue makeup, finger shaped bruises all over his torso. 

"You're crying," the Grandmaster said. It wasn't an accusation, and it wasn't shaming, it was just -- an observation. He caught a tear on one blue fingertip and tasted it, did the same with Loki's other cheek. 

"I suppose I am," Loki replied, wiping his face with the heel of his hand. 

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not particularly." 

The Grandmaster's hand travelled aimlessly over Loki's face, fingers tracing an eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, stopping to worry at Loki's bitten lip. "That's, mm, that's fair."

Instead, the Grandmaster wrapped Loki in his arms, draped his golden robe across Loki's body (which was now shivering, as he returned to his usual temperature), and pressed his lips to Loki's heavy eyelid. 

The Grandmaster was a strange old thing, and much harder for Loki to pin down than he thought. He treated most everyone like amusing playthings -- not surprising, for a creature as ancient as himself. He'd seen civilizations rise and fall in the blink of his eye. Loki didn't blame him for not wanting to stick with anything for too long. And yet, here Loki was in his embrace, as if the Grandmaster _adored_ him --

"You think way too much," the Grandmaster whispered, pressing his lips to Loki's. "Sleep."

So Loki did.


End file.
